


We'll Always Have December

by sadboykylo



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Happy Ending, Mistletoe, New Year's Kiss, Snowball Fight, Snowed In, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 08:05:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16850290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadboykylo/pseuds/sadboykylo
Summary: Every single December, Rey and Ben meet at a family ski resort.





	We'll Always Have December

**Author's Note:**

> To celebrate the holiday, please enjoy this soft and fluffy story. Special thank you to [Jamie](https://twitter.com/codystardis) and [Klaudia](https://twitter.com/bensforce) for their assistance on building this story. ♡

**We’ll Always Have December**

Out beyond right, out beyond wrong.

There is a place, I’ll meet you there.

 

* * *

  

It was the first time Rey had ever seen snow, and Ben Solo had already managed to ruin it.

 

A voice shouted _head’s up_ and before Rey could even make out the muffled words through her knit hat, she was flat on her back and looking up towards the sky. Breathless, she accepted the triumph of embarrassment to the sound of boys snickering. Her cheeks, already numb from the climb up the mountainside, were beginning to flush.

 

Ceasefire had yet to be called as more snowballs barrelled overhead. Somewhere in the snow, footsteps were approaching her seemingly lifeless body. Each stomp released adolescent animosity and grew louder and closer until they came to an abrupt stop and —

 

“Shit,” he snorted. “Are you okay?”

 

“Never been better,” she responded weakly.

 

“You should know better not to walk into the middle of a snowball match.”

 

A frown painted her face and then, she tasted the hint of leaking iron from her swollen lip.

 

Everything was overwhelmingly white. She blinked her eyes and the falling flakes started to blur. Rey considered spending the remainder of her winter vacation buried there, beneath the snow. The brisk of winter was stiff to her marrow; she was certain she looked absurd. Yet, when she opened her eyes, his hands were braced beneath her elbows and his face was jarringly close to her own.

 

He looked solemn and undefinable as he pulled himself away. Rey awaited closure, unsure if she’d ever make sense of the enigma that was Ben Solo, as he trotted back into the snowfall.

 

* * *

 

The second time Rey met snow, she was much more prepared, and found a friend in a local named Finn. He lived in Canada with his family all year round. He wore cardigans, hated the slopes, but loved peppermint.

 

 _I mean,_ he said, _I hate tourists but you’re manageable._

 

Rey could attest that his smile was bright enough to warm the whole village. It was contagious, the way his lips spread like peanut butter on toast, sticking to anyone who took a taste. They were sharing a sofa in the coffeehouse when Ben Solo walked by, his goggles on his forehead and his snowboard tucked beneath his arm. He looked breathless, his nose dripping and his cheeks flustered.

 

“His uncle owns the resort,” Finn nodded through the frosted window. “He competes.”

 

“The Luke Skywalker?” Rey asked.

 

“ _The_ Luke Skywalker,” Finn repeated.

 

 _That’s quite the name to live up to,_ Rey considered, but never thought to say aloud. And as if Ben Solo could hear her thoughts, he whipped around and glared through the window at them, just as Rey dipped her head, assuring herself that the swirling froth of mocha was the reason her insides warmed.

 

* * *

 

By the third visit to Hoth Ski Resort, it started to feel like a home away from home.

 

Every winter break, when Rey was finished with school, her family would drag themselves onto a plane and they’d venture up north. Rey had to admit it was a welcomed break from the warm breeze of the gulf, and the abiding scent of suntan lotion that married Tampa, Florida.

 

Every year, the village seemed unscathed and loyal. The snow still fell, the chimneys still smoked, and Ben Solo always arrived a day or two later, his snowboard beneath his arm and his eyes rolling at something humiliating his father had said.

 

Each year, he was taller. Each year, his eyes were darker. And each year, he seemed sadder.

 

Finn was blushing at their coffee dates whenever a _Poe Dameron_ was mentioned — some alpine skier that was using the facilities as a training center — while Rey was just as audacious as a child, gallivanting through the snow-kissed pinewoods.

 

And now, as her own thoughts slurred, she questioned the decision to join their night out.

 

Snow was already difficult to walk in while sober, let alone while —

 

“You’re drunk,” he deadpanned.

 

Rey was frozen, his low whistle compelling her to stop. She was shivering, her open jacket exposing the delicate dress that now reeked of brandy. Aimless snowflakes were speckling her hair, melting from her eyelashes each time she blinked.

 

Any clueless look would have been meaningless, yet she painted it. They were the only two people in the lobby of the resort and his somber eyes were practically eating her whole. She shifted her weight, her shoes squeaking on the floor from the snow she had tracked in from outside.

 

He was standing in front of the display case. Rey didn’t need to look to discern that. She already knew it concealed gold medallions from previous Winter Olympic Games. Each one glimmered their promise of remembrance and legacy. However, from the pain of his face, she imagined they taunted and jeered every time he scattered by.

 

“Maybe?” She hiccuped.

 

“I see you here every year,” he continued. “But I don’t know your name.”

 

“I’m Rey.”

 

“Rey,” he repeated, enjoying the way it rolled from his own tongue. He mouthed it again, but did not speak aloud. _Rey._

 

“And you’re Ben Solo.”

 

He took a step closer and her throat tightened. She swallowed her own breath, afraid releasing it would scare him away. It was quite ridiculous how her body responded, how she curled in on herself before she could even calculate his motive or reasoning.

 

Whether it was the alcohol, or his hand reaching toward her face, every single nerve in her body was pulsating. His two fingers, without warning or acquiescence, begun to burrow into her damp tangles, and Rey couldn’t help but allow the advance, his eyes attentive and focused.

 

He pulled a single thread of shimmering, green tinsel from her hair. His fingers pinched and held out the glint of light that stole his attention so she could see. Slowly, he released and allowed the air to steal it away.

 

And it drifted, drifted, drifted, accepting the fall.

 

* * *

 

By the fourth snowfall, they were friends.

 

Their relationship saturated beneath warmer days and extended into the other eleven months of the year. They kept in touch when Rey flew home to Tampa and Ben’s family drove back down to San Francisco. She would send him photos of pad thai takeout and he’d respond from the top of a new mountain somewhere in the world; a higher peak that he would brave. They became the type of cohorts that made their local friends question _what exactly it was they were up to_ every single Christmas.

 

 _He was actually excited to visit this year,_ his father had commented in passing. A sliver into Ben’s world, something Rey had promised herself she wouldn’t read _too much into_. Even when she told Finn and Poe all about it at their weekly coffeehouse date, her cheeks flushing of sugarplum.

 

And next week, over a caramel brulee with far too much whipped cream, she’d tell them all about this.

 

Ben Solo approached her on the easiest hill at the ski resort. Despite the helmet, a villainous thing with black paint and metallic lining by his eyes, she knew it was him by the walk. Sometimes his steps were discordant, straying too far to the side — not that Rey cared enough to notice mere details like this. All around them, kids half their size and half their age were tumbling down the bank with inflatable tubes or beginner boards.

 

A fervent avalanche rushed over her. He pulled the helmet over his head and a mop of black hair fell freely, accentuating his pale face. It looked striking, difficult to ignore in the whiteout. She felt her lungs gasp, her jaw tighten.

 

He seemed lost. “I haven’t been on the bunny hill since I was four.”

 

Yet before Rey could conjure a worthy response, he was bent into the snow and kneeling before her. He let his helmet sit long enough for him to hold her calves and guide her into the board’s bindings. Even in the dead of winter, he sent a shock of heat beneath his touch.

 

Rey attentively watched him, detailing the flakes that drifted into his hair. Eventually they melted, disappearing, such as every other out of place factor in his engrossed life.

 

“ — Do you understand that?”

 

Rey snapped to his attention, “What?”

 

If he was annoyed that she wasn’t paying attention, he didn’t make it apparent. “ _I said,_ do not straighten out. You’ll go fast. Learn how to control the board by sliding sideways until you can get a feel for it.”

 

Rey nodded, her attention utterly focused on his hands steadying her elbows.

 

“Are you ready?”

 

No. “Yes.”

 

He hesitated — but let go and of course, she wiped out. But it was _genuinely fine_ , she had promised, because they got hot chocolate in the village afterwards.

 

* * *

 

It was the fifth time Rey stuck her tongue out to taste the snow, the fifth time Rey would pour too much brandy in her eggnog, and the fifth time Rey would ride the ski-lifts alone. There was no displaced blame, despite the cramp in her gut. After all, the Winter Olympics were only in two months and he was far too busy, perfecting his routine and his craft, on someone else’s hill.

 

And she pretended not to mind.

 

* * *

 

The wood was fresh from snow, dispersing a scent of pine throughout the family cabin. His parents were in the village for dinner and it was just them. Ben had texted her earlier, asking if she wanted to come over and help decorate their Christmas tree.

 

He wanted to spend as much time as possible with her on this sixth snowfall. It was the least he could do for missing the last. She asked _far too many_ questions about the Olympics and he had _far too many_ stories to tell. Sometimes he believed Rey was the only person who genuinely cared to hear what he had to say.

 

Their boots sat by the door, melting snow into a puddle. He lit every sugar cookie candle he could find in storage and came upon batteries for an old stereo. A Christmas miracle in itself — the antenna wondrously found a radio station in the midst of frosted woodland. Love exhaled into their moment as _The Christmas Song_ by Nat King Cole hummed through the speakers.

 

Her tube socks slid on the hardwood floor as she spun around the tree, unraveling a velvet garland in her wake. Beneath, at her feet, he buttoned the flanneled skirt firmly along the stump.

 

“They won’t be home until later tonight,” he stated. “They’re having dinner with my uncle.”

 

“Luke Skywalker?”

 

He hummed. “It’ll be a nice surprise.”

 

They chose the tree from a line of options and together, they dragged it on a sled from the village to his street. Unlike Rey, the Solo Family had a second home in Hoth. Their cabin was polished, and perpetually smoking a scent of musky wood. It was situated on a hill, and practically a ski resort in itself, but Rey knew better to comment on it.

 

With tinsel, ornaments, and twinkling lights — the tree was almost complete. Rey could admit, it intermixed with the brick fireplace and the wooden panels flawlessly. All that was left to decorate was the star at the top, and without a ladder, they struggled to find an alternative method.

 

Finally, Ben gathered the courage and did something very unlike himself. He could hardly believe his own audacity in the moment as he swept down, wrestling with her, and then — Ben had her legs wrapped over his shoulders and she was high enough to reach the tip of the pine.

 

“Please do not drop me,” Rey implored, holding his head for balance.

 

He took a much needed inhale. Her fingers were knotting in his hair and _he couldn’t fathom a functioning thought._

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he finally replied. His hands braced her knees as he took a step forward, getting Rey conveniently close to the tree. She reached up, securing the star in place and plugging it into the end of a string light outlet. It illuminated brightly, and for a moment, Ben could have forgotten that Rey’s thighs were draping his ears like wrapping paper.

 

Electricity hummed between them, hurdling ripples in a whisper of truth. It was practically tangible.

 

 _Ummm..._ her voice begun.

 

“Oh,” he nodded. “Right, sorry.”

 

Carefully, he placed her down. They took a few small steps back, admiring their finished product.

 

“Merry Christmas, Rey.” His voice was solemn, one could argue it even hinted serenity. If he wasn’t so proud of himself, he would have just done it then. Each year, he anticipated visiting the resort a hint more. The new year would ring through and Rey would get smarter, her lips would get fuller, and her gazes would seem more critical of his actions.

 

Nothing ever came from it. _Why fall in love with someone you only see for three weeks?_

 

Yet, that July night in San Francisco, when he argued with his parents about college, _so loudly,_ a vessel could have popped in his forehead — the resentful, colliding arguments in his mind all blurred away to a single thought: _I wonder what she is doing right now._

 

And in that moment, Ben wished it snowed in Tampa.

 

“Merry Christmas, Ben.”

 

Her face reflected the accomplishment they created — bright and gleaming. Ben took note as he watched her instead instead of the twinkling Christmas tree. It was a nice surprise for his parents, but an excuse to spend the night with her.

 

* * *

 

It was Rey’s seventh snowfall and Finn was throwing a holiday party.

 

She could bet every insurgent with an appetite for spiked eggnog was in attendance, gathered in the cabin, and embracing the ambience of it all. String lights draped the rafters, holly garlands wrapped the banisters, and a stereo played _Christmas_ by Mariah Carey.

 

The cup in Rey’s hand, a concoction of peppermint and vodka, was starting to hollow out. She could feel the world’s rotation start to slow, while her heart began to accelerate. Outside, the snow continued to fall.

 

Rey felt peculiar, but not exactly offbeat. Maybe it was the alcohol working some magic, but she had completely forgotten about her life away from snow. She could get away with _absolutely anything_ — three thousand miles away from home. Nothing really mattered. She was untouchable.

 

That was, until Ben Solo decided to show up.

 

_“Your sweater is really ugly,” he had bent down, his mouth by her ear to speak over the music._

 

_“Thanks,” Rey smiled. “So is yours.”_

 

And then he disappeared into a welcoming crowd, a drink in his hand with a few snowboarding buddies in tow. It wasn’t even as if he knew the others in attendance, but Ben had triumphed a silver medal on the half-pipe and he was becoming an everyday name for the winter sports community.

 

Boys _like_ that, don’t fall for girls _like_ Rey. She knew enough to admit that to herself.

 

Yet seeing Ben, as shameless and unapologetic as he was, wearing a fuzzy and bedazzled sweater in the depths of a houseparty was _truly something else_. And throughout the night, she could feel his eyes follow her every move. They were unmerciful; sweeping her in his incomprehensible way.

 

Finally, beneath the vestibule, they collided.

 

Her drink was all over him, and his hands were frantically caressing her forearms in a messy and sloppy apology. His hair, a thick and midnight mane, had fallen into his face. For some reason, he was obtusely _giddy_. Or maybe just drunk.

 

But then he froze, his eyes fixated on the mistletoe hanging over their heads.

 

“Rey,” he whispered.

 

And for some reason, she found herself closing her eyes. She couldn’t formulate a proper sentence and it was the only response she could fathom. Waiting. Lingering in the air like a snowflake. Most likely embarrassing herself.

 

But then — his palm was cupping her face and tilting her chin — and somewhere far, _elsewhere_ , she could hear a piano. His thumb dragged along her cheekbone until it settled to the corner of her mouth, enough of a warning for Rey to slightly part her lips in anticipation. His breath was warm, but smelled like a cinnamon-sugar rim — and he planted his lips in a devious and calculated kiss on her cheek, forever burning his mark into her flesh and endlessly holding her love for ransom.

 

His body was alarmingly close and he refused to release his grasp of her face _just yet_ as he whispered words she’d carry with herself into the next year: “If only we had more time together.”

 

* * *

 

New Year’s Eve sprinkled Rey’s eighth snowfall. She watched the flakes meet the surface of a bubbling jacuzzi before gyrating back into the air as steam. Her eyes begun to gloss over, fixated on the testament that all good things eventually returned to their element. Firecrackers reverberated, burbling through the empty woodland. In the distance, she could see their illuminations reflect off the overcast and define the protruding mountaintops.

 

Despite the clouds, the stars were brighter than usual, forcing themselves through to say goodnight. Somewhere, Rey could hear the echo of cheering and drunken laughter as a countdown begun. She sunk further into the water, blocking it out and letting the whirlpool swallow her whole. The celebratory bursts sounded like warfare beneath the surface.

 

Sixty seconds from midnight and someone dunked into the jacuzzi uninvited.

 

The wave of water crashed over her while lapping the edges. He came back up for air — his mop of midnight longer than ever before, glued to his forehead, and ever-so-slightly exposing the tips of his ears. He smiled foolishly, full of white teeth and exasperated breathing.

 

“Why aren’t you at the party?” He questioned. “I looked for you.”

 

“Are you not wearing a bathing suit?” She asked.

 

He shrugged off the thought, but then, Rey watched as his eyes waver from her held gaze. The darkness of them drew a line as they etched her neck and crossed her collarbone. She sunk, her cheeks flustered.

 

“You have a freckle on your chest. I never noticed that before.”

 

“I’m usually wearing, like, ten layers.”

 

For a moment, they didn’t speak. It wasn’t absolute silence. The chant of the countdown was stitched together by bubbling water, and bursts of light that reflected from the surface. A glowing red shadowed his silhouette and she felt her gut twinge. Her eyes detailed the droplets of water that ran his angular nose, calculating which divot they would decide to race through.

 

He was swimming towards her, occupying the space that separated them for far too long.

 

_Ten._

 

“I’ve barely seen you this winter.”

 

_Nine._

 

“I’ve been on the slopes. Luke has me working overtime.”

 

_Eight._

 

His hand was on her neck, craning it towards him. She could feel his legs beneath the surface, squirming against hers and then, tangling at the knee. He held her in place.

 

_Seven._

 

“You never said anything to me,” Ben mumbled. “About that night, and the kiss.”

 

_Six._

 

A detonation of blue. Her heart was beating in her ear. The snow continued to fall like they rattled the sky and she dropped her stars.

 

_Five._

 

Rey felt herself catch on fire at his unapologetic suppleness. Beneath the surface, his other hand grasped her waist and pressed into flesh. If she wasn’t already numb from the boil, she was now beneath his touch.

 

_Four._

 

“It was nothing — ”

 

Ben Solo didn’t have the patience to wait until midnight. He was a poor excuse for a hopeless romantic and lousy at timing, but the crash of his lips was suffocating and drowned the countdown out nevertheless. Their cadence was eccentric, chasing unspoken eagerness that had built up for years, and years, and years in hibernation.

 

Rey felt consumed by his dauntlessness and only dreamed of returning the favor. Her hands were over his, securing their pressure and biting harder, kissing deeper. She sunk into his embrace and swore to the Gods he could do whatever the —

 

He pulled away and she was breathless, her bottom lip bruised and pleading for just one more taste.

 

“That didn’t seem like nothing at all, Rey.”

 

And then he was climbing over the edge, leaving her there — beneath the stars and in the fray of her own warmth and throbbing desire. The smoke of the hot tub rose and his silhouette soon disappeared within it.

 

* * *

 

The ninth time Rey saw snow and she absolutely hated it. She dreaded the trip, begging her parents to let her skip out.

 

Studies were sweeping her schedule as she prepared for graduation and applications for graduate programs. Between education, and working full time, she wondered if the trek would even be worth it. Visiting Finn and Poe was enough, but they had passed through Florida over the summer for their honeymoon already.

 

Simply put, the snow was not _nearly as_ magical when Ben wasn’t there to board through it, and the fireside wasn’t _nearly as_ warm if his weight wasn’t there to hold her down.

 

Her socks squenched with each step as she slogged through the village’s knee-high snow. From a corner cafe, she could hear a contagious rumble that grew deafening as she drew closer out of curiosity. The windows were frosted and icicles leaked from above, but she cupped her hands over the glass and gazed inside. A large television screen was broadcasting the Winter Olympics in France.

 

She didn’t have to squint to know it was him.

 

He was cheeky, answering whatever question a reporter had just asked him. Wrinkles exuded beneath his eyes; his nose was bright red. Rey could confidently say she knew him long enough to notice when he was about to cry. His mother was already gone, grasping onto him and lost in a puddle of proud tears.

 

The sports network replayed the montage of his run. He spun, flipped, and contorted himself in the air on every single jump. And on the last, _Rey just knew he was going for it._ After weeks of watching him practice, she knew when he was going to _risk it all._ And then he was in the air — his hand grasping his board while his body spun, and spun, and spun until it had to meet the earth again.

 

At the foot of the hill he had nearly collapsed from happiness, falling onto his knees in the snow, and holding his board above his head. He didn’t even have the score yet, but he could _feel_ that run.

 

And for a moment, Rey felt genuinely happy he was gone.

 

* * *

“There’s snow — ”

 

The objection was useless, a gasp of protest devoured by Ben Solo’s mouth.

 

His answer was equally blunt, yet tender in the transaction of an exhale: “I’ll warm you.”

 

Their afternoon adventure was interrupted by a gale of white, and showed no signs of stopping. It was the tenth snowfall and Ben had Rey cornered in an abandoned boathouse, tucked in the blizzard, and far enough in the wilderness to conceal their ravenous sounds. Wind hollered outside, slamming the shutters against the wooden panels. He lifted her onto the worktable and knocked over whatever had consumed its place previously, the howl burying the crash.

 

_This was starting to become a regular thing._

 

And despite the dropping temperatures, they were shedding their layers as quickly as possible.

 

Some unrecognizable part of her crumbled beneath the warmth of his kiss, and for a solid moment she felt nerveless. Her legs were opening and Ben wedged himself between with the same sense of urgency like the first time this had happened.

 

He had been in Orlando for a charity event when he sent the late night text. At that point, they hadn’t spoken since the Olympics and he was ready — just like on that half-pipe — to risk it all.

 

Since that night, Rey had been incapable of trying to place what had struck her the most: feeling Ben fill to the brim and spill out onto her, or seeing his face in the warmth of August. The displacement of snow for sand was unsettling, but her nerves went numb beneath the shear sensation when he first thrusted in.

 

Unexpectedly, his bottom lip dragged up the bridge of her nose as he reminded her _exactly what that pressure felt like_.

 

“I need you,” he vocalized through bated breath.

 

Those words were like peppermint candy to Rey and only fed the rush. It was sloppy, and they were impatient. So, she ate his words and stored them into the arsenal of deadly things he’s said in the past.

 

Her arms hooked beneath his shoulders and her fingers curled to anchor herself down like she always did when he had her pledged to this position. The bulge pressing on her abdomen ventured further and Rey inhaled sharply, feeling Ben tease himself along her entrance. Their tangled spines clutched the light.

 

His face was hidden in the nape of her neck as he pressed forward, kissing her hips with his own; spreading and unraveling the tension she desperately clutched to.

 

“Let go, Rey.”

 

And she did.

 

Drifting, drifting, drifting, accepting the fall.

 

* * *

 

Rey was not sure what snowfall this was.

 

Without even realizing it had happened, she trusted that the next snowstorm would eventually come and she didn’t need to keep count anymore. She would wake to the scent of breakfast wafting from their kitchen, and she’d follow her nose down the hall to find him hunched over sizzling scrambled eggs, or french toast. And outside the window, there’d be nothing but white drifting from the sky like powdered sugar.

 

Because in their love story — it never rained.

 

In a lot of ways, Denver was different from Hoth. However, the way the snow stuck to his bangs and his dimples shed their insecurity was enough for Rey. To her surprise, graduate school was a lot easier with a study buddy at home — and Ben could agree that having a fresh pair of hands to patch up his snowboarding injuries was a nice perk too.

 

And he had his own display case of shimmering medals, and she had enough snow to lose track.

 

It was where they always had December.

 

And January, and February, and March, and…

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. ♡


End file.
